


Dear Ratty.

by MamaCake



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Amica Endurae, Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, Conjunx Endura, Cute, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Love, M/M, Never Have I Ever, Party, Sweet, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 13:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18993418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaCake/pseuds/MamaCake
Summary: How many years has a mech gotta live before they get a Forge Day party thrown for them?! Well, Drift is going to remedy that because he's cute and Rodimus is going to cause shenanigans because that's what he's good at.





	Dear Ratty.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I purposefully am uploading this today because it's my birthday! And because I'm an adult and I'd rather give than receive, here is my present to you 😊 sweet, fluffy, silly, drunken ridiculousness. Sorry it's so long I got totally carried away! Enjoy 💙

It was early on the Lost Light, most of its occupants either recharging in preparation for a new day or staring with dim optics at a screen and tapping with weary digits to make sure the ship sailed smoothly. But there was one mech who'd roused himself and decided to go make a head start on some reports, not that he needed to, but he always liked to help out the new Chief Medical Officer wherever he could. He personally knew the strain and burden the job could hold.

Ratchet tapped his light pen against the desk, brow furrowed as he considered whether the mech complaining from an engine knock should come in for a check up sooner rather than later. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice movement in the doorway. He'd left it open so that if anyone needed any early morning treatment they knew he was available. The one creeping up on him could do anything stealthy enough to seem almost invisible anyway, door open or not. His pedes stepped almost silently across the floor, his shoulders hunched up in preparation for pouncing. He drew out his weapon of choice and his grin spread evilly across his face.

“Ratty!”

The medic startled as Drift threw his hand onto his shoulder from behind and he felt something else placed on top of his chevron. He flattened a hand against his chest where underneath he was sure he could feel his spark pulsing hard and he tried to frown, but he couldn't. He couldn't be mad at his cute conjunx.

“You bastard,” he managed to choke out a laugh, “you trying to kill me?”

“If I was you wouldn't have known about it.”

Drift came round to his side, placed a kiss on his cheek and then hopped up effortlessly onto Ratchet's desk, careful not to nudge anything off; he'd had that rant before and he didn't want a repeat. Not on a special day like this.

Ratchet put his light pen down and touched tentatively at the thing on his helm. It was flimsy and had a tassle on the very top of the point, it almost felt like…

“A party hat?! Really?”

He pulled it off with a grin and shook his helm as he looked at the colourful, shiny object, shaking it a little to let the little foils of ribbon at the top shimmer in the bright overhead lights.

“There's no parties going on, I'm guessing you're just doing this to piss me off.”

“Well, you do look _adorable_ ,” Drift smirked at the look he was being given, “but you're wrong, for once! There's a very good reason for you to be wearing that, Happy Forge Day Ratty!”

He threw his arms wide like this was an amazing revelation and Ratchet huffed a laugh.

“I've never told you when it is, for fear of, this,” he shook the hat again, “so maybe _you're_ wrong.”

“Nuh-uh! We’ve got the world's best archivist on board, at least that's what I had to flatter him with. Once I gave him your serial number he managed to look through all his records for when your spark was harvested and ta-da!”

Ratchet raised an optic ridge, “I'm impressed, it's not so easy to find out when someone Forged had their first flash, not like someone constructed cold. Thank you.”

He turned his attention back to his datapad once again, placing the hat down on his desk. Drift flopped his arms down in disappointment.

“That's it? You don't want to know what else I have planned?”

“What? Why would you have anything else planned?”

Ratchet was scowling at his datapad. He supposed that seeing as the knock had been pretty severe in this patient, he should request that they come in sooner rather than later but he'd double check with First Aid, he didn't want to step on anyone's pedes. He started to scribble a note about a follow up appointment when Drift started again.

“Why would I have anything…? Ratty! You're my conjunx and you don't get to say you've existed for-”

“-Lets not get into numbers-”

“-a _long_ time then, without a party or two!”

“Ugh,” Ratchet flickered his optics, “don't we have enough parties? Just last megacycle we had a party for when Megatron shot Rodimus, why does he even want to remember and celebrate that anyway?”

“I think it was more a celebration of Rodimus’ stubborn refusal to die even at the hands of someone like Megatron. Plus, did you see his _face_? I've never seen Megatron squirm so much ever.”

“Well, anyway, I don't need a reminder of how old I am.”

Thinking that was the end of it, Ratchet finished his writing and put down his pen, wiggling out his fingers. Even now he still found it hard not to be amazed that they worked properly.

Drift was still watching him though, a slight pout on his face. When Ratchet caught it, he lifted an optic ridge in response again.

“Guess I'll just tell Swerve to hand the cake he made _especially_ over to Rodimus. And you know he'll eat it all, he has no impulse control whatsoever.”

“Wait, you didn't mention _cake_.”

“No no no, s'fine, I'll just,” he slid himself off the desk, “return your presents and-”

Ratchet laughed, “presents? Drift!”

But the white mech dodged where he was being reached for with a giggle, racing around to the back of Ratchet's chair to lean onto his shoulder.

“And I guess you don't need that _other_ , _special_ , just the two of us surprise either.”

The way he whispered the words down his audial made Ratchet shiver. Damn this gorgeous mech.

“Alright, alright, I'll stop acting my old, grumpy age and go along with it, but seriously, you didn't have to make all this fuss over me.”

Drift nuzzled into his neck cables and draped his arms around Ratchet's shoulders to caress at his chest. Ratchet made a grumble at the teases.

“I know, but I wanted to, because I love you and you're special.”

“Get off, you soppy slagger.”

But as Ratchet wriggled, Drift clung on tighter, laughing and nuzzling at him even more. They were both a giggling, wrestling mess by the time First Aid walked in, having left Whirl snoring loudly in their shared berth. He did appreciate the company but not so much the loudness.

“Get out of my medbay, Ratch, you've obviously got other things to be doing.”

“It's only your medbay because I gave it to you, Drift-!”

He managed to push away his conjunx, grinning wildly and stood from his chair. First Aid crossed his arms over his chest and shook his helm.

“And what a _generous_ gift it was.”

“You carry on like that and you'll make me look like a ray of sunshine, Aid.”

“I learned this attitude from the best, right?”

It was hard to tell how First Aid was really feeling if you didn't know him very well, but Ratchet could hear the faint hint of amusement in his vocals and the way that he'd folded his arms lazily, not in the uptight way he did when he was angry. Ratchet grinned at him and grabbed Drift's hand to pull him along.

“C'mon trouble maker.”

“Ratty! Don't forget your hat!”

And as Drift dived over to grab the hat and shove it back down into Ratchet's helm there was no mistaking First Aid's emotions as he doubled over, a strangled laugh coming out from behind his faceplate. Ratchet rolled his optics with a smile and started out of the medbay, Drift following behind him totally pleased with himself.

* * *

 

When Drift had said that he'd organised a party down in Swerve's later that day, Ratchet thought he meant just a small gathering of the usual suspects that they went drinking with, he wasn't quite expecting the crowd that had gathered and he was bewildered at the roar of _'Happy Forge Day Ratchet!’_ that greeted him as he entered. He smiled coyly and pulled Drift closer into his side.

“Really? All this, for me?” He muttered.

“Yes for you! Ratty as much as you want to think no one likes you, it's pretty obvious we kinda do.”

He didn't have time to reply because Rodimus was already pushing himself through the crowd, arms held high and he threw himself at the medic.

“Ratch! You old bastard!”

“Yeah, thanks Rodimus.”

Ratchet patted the captain's back and looked over at Thunderclash who was wading through the crowd behind. Ratchet gestured to Rodimus and made a drinking motion with his hand, optic ridges raised in question. Thunderclash shook his helm with a smile.

“Just happy to see you attend your party, Ratchet, he figured you might find an excuse not to come.”

“Yeah well,” his optics flicked over at Drift, “someone is very persuasive.”

Rodimus sprung back, not without first smooching Ratchet's cheek and then pointed at the bar.

“I'm buying your first drink! What do you want Doc?” Rodimus then turned to his amica, faking a whisper, “can I borrow some money?”

Drift shook his helm with a smile and pulled Rodimus towards the bar.

“I'll get one for everyone.”

Rodimus leant into him, “I knew I loved you for a reason.”

The two left and Ratchet was stood with Thunderclash, who even though had been in the bar waiting for his friend's arrival for some time, was still getting awed glances. Ratchet nodded to his side where a mech was gaping.

“I dunno how you do it, I find it kind of… annoying.”

Thunderclash shrugged, “I'm used to it. Can I help you my friend?”

The mech that had been watching Thunderclash with absolute wonder suddenly squealed and turned back to his friends.

“He _spoke_ to me! Thunderclash!”

Ratchet rolled his optics and started past the big mech, reaching up to pat his shoulder as he went, hoping to find a booth to sit in away from prying optics.

“C'mon, let's try and find some peace and quiet.”

Luckily, there was a booth impressively free apart from Minimus and Megatron. There was no wonder that no one wanted to sit with the ex-warlord apart from his insisted _friend_ but that suited Ratchet fine. He slid in beside Minimus and Thunderclash went opposite to sit beside Megatron.

Minimus lifted his glass, “Many happy returns, Ratchet.”

Megatron silently mirrored the gesture and nodded at the medic. At the best of times their relationship was strange and strained, but Ratchet didn't want to cause a ruckus, so he nodded in return and smiled.

“Thank you. I'm not quite sure why Drift insisted on throwing a party for me but… he's pretty excited over it so I thought I better show my face.”

“He's been making preparations for some time.”

Thunderclash agreed with Minimus then added, “I think it's probably Rodimus’ fault, they were watching some Earth media where someone had a _birth date party?_ ”

“That's what humans celebrate when they age, a birthday.”

“Why is it called a birthday?”

Minimus was tilting his helm at Ratchet, and he laughed a little to himself. He wasn't sure how the details of how humans were made would be received so he brushed it off the best that he could.

“It's the day that they… arrive on Earth.”

“Arrive?” Minimus mused, “but how exactly-?”

Luckily, Rodimus came bounding over, leaving Drift to balance a tray of drinks in his hands through the crowd. He crawled under the table and popped up between Thunderclash and Megatron, grinning cheekily.

“Between my two favourite hunks, what a lucky mech I am!”

“Okay, are we all _sure_ that Rodimus isn't drunk? Because,” Ratchet pointed, “I'm sure Megatron has never been called a hunk in his entire life.”

Megatron muttered, “you would be surprised.”

Ratchet blinked, unsure whether he wanted Megatron to elaborate or not when Drift placed a humongous multi coloured drink with little umbrellas and a fancy, looping straw in it in front of him.

“What's this?”

“New cocktail, on account of you. It's called the Doc Rocket.”

“Is that because you might need a doctor after it or because you might end up so intoxicated you think you're riding a rocket?”

Rodimus banged his hand onto the table, “ _be shoosh_ and drink!”

“Okay,” Ratchet pinched at the bridge of his nose, “What is up with you?”

“Me?” Rodimus’ optics were wide and bright, “I helped Swerve decorate your cake and he let me lick the icing, MMMM.”

“So it's worse than drunk Rodimus, it's hyper Rodimus. Great.”

“Stop being so crotchety and drink! Ohh! In fact, let's play a drinking game!”

“Let's not.” Minimus sighed.

“Me first! Never have I ever… erm…”

“Roddy, we can never play this with you because you've done _everything._ ”

“Not true! Never have I ever had to stop someone leaking out.”

Drift nudged Ratchet who was watching Thunderclash take a sip of his drink. He furrowed his brow.

“What?”

“You have to drink.”

“But Rodimus said never-”

“Okay, it goes like this, you have to say something you've never done and whoever _has_ done that, has to drink.” Drift elaborated, “I'm just impressed Roddy found something he hasn't done.”

Rodimus waved his hand dismissively, “I'm no hero, but you Doc, are most certainly a hero, so, chin chin!”

With a dramatic sigh, Ratchet took a sip of his drink. He was surprised, it didn't look quite as fuelled with engex as he thought it might and it was deliciously sweet. He most definitely wouldn't have another after this was finished, it was dangerously good.

“Megs! Go!”

Megatron thought for a moment, “Never have I ever had someone else wash me.”

“Whoa! Isn't it a bit early for that?”

Rodimus laughed and knocked some of his drink back anyway, Thunderclash abashedly taking a small drink of his whilst Drift grinned across the table at his amica and drank. Ratchet took the tiniest sip of his.

“Mags! Go! This should be good.”

Minimus sighed at where Rodimus was leaning his chin on his hands and grinning wildly at him. He fidgeted for a moment then cleared his intake.

“Never have I ever… consumed a cocktail.”

“So that's getting remedied for sure! C'mon, everyone else drink up, you too Mags! I know you love a little umbrella drink.”

It was Ratchet's turn and he shifted under Rodimus’ gaze.

“Rodimus I can't concentrate with you staring at me. Wait, no, I've got one. Never have I ever kissed Rodimus.”

He watched how both Drift and Thunderclash exchanged grins and clinked their glasses together before taking a drink. Rodimus laughed and pointed.

“That is also getting remedied tonight! Drift, baby, c'mon, whatcha got?”

“Never have I ever held a laser scalpel.”

“Oh what?!” Ratchet scoffed, “I feel like all of these questions are aimed at me!”

“What? Would we ever?” Drift grinned, “c'mon, Ratty, drink!”

Thunderclash took a drink and so did Megatron, Rodimus turning with a frown.

“Sorry what? You helped someone?”

“He helped _me_.” Drift pointed out, “Thunders, you're up.”

“Oh this'll be good.” Rodimus muttered.

“Never have I ever,” Thunderclash hummed for a moment, “dated a medic.”

“Oh this is fragging slag, you're all trying to get me drunk.”

Drift nearly spat out his drink, his optics offlining as he snickered. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and indicated at the Doc Rocket for Ratchet.

They continued their game, most of the questions specifically picked so that Ratchet would have to drink, but there were a few surprising revelations too. Thunderclash declared that he had never been hungover whilst Megatron admitted that he'd never watched an Earth video. Rodimus promised to change both of those and declared that he'd never gone less than two days without polishing or washing himself and when Megatron had been forced to take a drink, he got defensive.

“Washracks weren't particularly high on the needs list in the mines, Rodimus.”

Minimus had declared he had never left a punctuation mark out of place, much to the giggles of the table, even more so when the green mech's face fell when Megatron had to drink.

“Really?”

“Oh Minimus, not everyone is as perfect as you.”

Minimus blushed deeply and it was Ratchet's turn again. He was feeling more than a little bit silly, especially as Rodimus was opposite him and goading him especially with questions. _Never have I ever been elbows deep in someone's chest, never have I ever been spurted with energon, never have I ever taken a nap in the medbay_ and Drift had mumbled to that one before drinking.

“Never have I ever…” he needed a good one, “had a crush on Optimus Prime.”

Rodimus burst out laughing as Megatron mumbled something, the flame coloured mech laying over the table as he giggled.

Drift, who hadn't drank, narrowed his optics at Ratchet.

“I don't believe you.”

“And I don't believe you.” Ratchet took a drink anyway, “but he had the crush on me.”

Rodimus recovered enough to blurt out, “what?!”

“Something about my hands. Anyway! Drift, and make it a good one seeing as you lied on the last one.”

Drift pursed his lips, “never have I ever… not thought Ratty is a hot piece of aft.”

Rodimus downed the rest of his drink, smirking as everyone else on the table did the same. Ratchet blushed furiously and nudged Drift with his shoulder.

“Jerk!”

“It's true! Ratch, you might be old, but take me to your berth any day!” Rodimus rose, “drinks! More drinks!”

Thunderclash rose with him, “I'll get these ones.”

When Rodimus returned, he obviously wanted to up the ante. He leaned heavily into Thunderclash and flickered his optics at his love.

“How about we change it up, Thunders, _truth or dare_.”

Drift groaned and slumped back into the seat, hand over his face.

“No, I'm out, no way, not again.”

Rodimus smiled sweetly, “what?”

“You dared me to-” he remembered his company, “it was _rude_.”

“Nothing too sexual this time okay?” Rodimus grinned at his amica then back at Thunderclash, “you playing babe?”

Thunderclash shrugged nonchalantly, obviously not wary of what Rodimus could dare him to do.

“Truth.”

Rodimus groaned and relented, “fine, I suppose we can start off easy. When did you fall in love with me?”

Thunderclash's optics went bright and he snapped his helm around, obviously blushing.

“Rodimus!”

“Wanna go dare instead?”

“...pretty much as soon as I met you, okay?”

Megatron smiled and Drift made a _aww_ noise. Rodimus grinned even wider.

“Okay, who wants to do me?”

“Roddy,” Drift facepalmed, “rephrase that.”

“Truth or dare.” Thunderclash's optics glinted.

“Pfft, dare.”

“I dare you to stand on the bar and say that Megatron is a good captain, as good as you.”

Rodimus stared Thunderclash down. Then he turned behind to where Megatron shrugged, a small smirk on his face. Never one to back down, Rodimus pouted then clambered over the table with a _fine!_

“Ahem! Everyone! Yo! I just gotta make an announcement real quick, Megs, you're just as good of a captain as me,” he winked, “and we all know how good I am. Peace out!”

He jumped back off the bar whilst the majority of Swerve's was still quiet and bemused. The chatter quickly started up again and Rodimus took his seat back in between the two mechs, apparently very pleased with himself. He grinned smugly.

“Why, thank you Rodimus, I'm _touched_.” Megatron rolled his optics, “truth, before you ask.”

“Okay, so if Optimus hadn't turned you down all those years ago, would we have even had to endure a four million year war?”

“...I change my mind, dare.”

“I dare you to… hug me, _like you mean it._ ”

“Very well.”

Megatron proceeded to stand, clear his throat then pick Rodimus cleanly out of his seat, embracing him tightly. For good measure, he used his loud voice to project his words across the bar.

“Thank you very much Rodimus! I too feel that we are excellent captains.”

When a ruffled Rodimus was placed back into his seat, there was a lot of giggling going on around the table. Megatron smirked and took a drink, eyeing his co-captain carefully.

“Right, that's it, Mags, truth or dare.”

“I always tell the truth, Rodimus.”

“No, c'mon. Pick one.”

“Truth, because it shouldn't be that difficult.”

“Okay, what is your deepest, darkest secret? _Go!”_

Minimus shifted for a moment, his optics cast down to the table. He was obviously uncomfortable and Megatron reached out across the table, not ashamed to openly comfort Minimus.

“Do not feel as though you have to take part, my dear.”

“No, no, it's just…” Minimus took a deep vent in, “I’m not proud of this. I once… spelt my name wrong.”

Rodimus’ jaw dropped open.

**_“What?!”_ **

“Which one?” Thunderclash asked.

“No no no no no no no!! That is not a juicy secret!!”

“Well, my secrets have mostly been revealed, there is very little for anyone to know now. And it was Ultra Magnus, Thunderclash. I spelt it _Ultar,_ can you believe that?!”

Drift was nearly under the table, he was giggling so hard but trying to keep it under wraps. Ratchet and Thunderclash were grinning at each other across the table whilst Rodimus was still gobsmacked.

“Minimus, for everyone's sake, I think next time you should take dare. Ratch, your go.”

“Frag it, dare, how bad could it be?”

Rodimus grinned, his optics sparkling. If only he knew.

“As long as it's okay with Thunders and Drift… you have to kiss me. And not on the hand or something lame! Do it properly.”

Thunderclash rolled his optics with a smile, “it's fine.”

Drift had finally recovered, but his interest was piqued. With a small smirk, he shrugged at Ratchet.

“I don't care. It's not like you're going to run off together right? But Ratty, don't feel you have-”

Ratchet had reached over the table to take Rodimus’ face into his hands. He kissed him hard right on the lips, his optics closed and stroked his face with his thumbs as he did.

When he pulled away, Rodimus was blushing and blinking, Drift was shifting in the booth next to him and Ratchet winked.

“Properly enough?”

Rodimus diverted his gaze away, his cheeks feeling hot. Ratchet was a nice kisser.

“Ahem, yep, definitely.” His voice came out a little squeaky, “Drift? Truth or dare?”

“Dare. I hope that's not a mistake.”

“I dare you to… hmm.”

“Go ask Whirl for a hug.”

“Oh Thunders, it almost sounds like you want to break up a bar brawl. Whirl doesn't hug _anyone._ ”

But Drift had pulled himself up, sauntered over to where the black mech was lounging on First Aid's lap in a booth with Cyclonus and Tailgate. They exchanged a few words before Whirl hopped up, embraced Drift tightly, waved over at the others watching then sat back down.

As he swaggered back with a huge grin on his face, Rodimus cursed.

“The frag was that?!”

“How did you manage it?”

“Easy,” Drift shrugged, “I asked nicely… and offered to buy five rounds for the whole table.”

“Show off.” Rodimus grumbled, “Fine. Thunders!”

They continued their game until kisses had near enough been exchanged around the table, but none quite as steamy as the one Ratchet had given Rodimus and thoroughly ridiculous admissions and dares had been done. Drinks finished, Rodimus convinced Drift, Thunderclash and Ratchet up onto the dancefloor, but instead of stealing off with his own partner or amica, he took Ratchet. Drift cocked his helm but Rodimus merely smiled.

“Don't worry your pretty helm, I'll bring him back in one piece.”

Ratchet was surprised but he went along with it all the same, he was pretty intoxicated after all. Rodimus took it easy on him, but did make Ratchet do a little twirl towards the end of the dance which some of the patrons whistled and called out at. Rodimus pulled his dance partner in close, pressing their faces together so he could talk to him over the music.

"Ratch, I just wanted to say… I love ya and I'm glad Drift has you. You're the best."

"And you're drunk." Ratchet chuckled down his audial.

"Nope, I haven't been drinking." Rodimus pecked him on the cheek, "Happy Forge Day you old bastard."

After just a little more dancing and then the cake cutting, Drift now mostly sober, coaxed Ratchet back to the hab suite. He did have some presents to unwrap after all.

Drift made sure Ratchet was seated comfortably on the bed before bringing out a small pile of presents, beautifully wrapped. There was a lot of giggling involved as they got unwrapped but Ratchet was really touched too. Drift had gotten him a new light pen that he could change the colours on at a flick of a button, the copy of _Towards Peace_ he owed but now signed by Megatron at the start, a new mug that said _Galaxy's Best Conjunx_ on, a huge jar of various energon sweets signed from _TC_ and _HR_ , a few other datapads to read as suggested by Minimus, a blanket with sleeves that Drift told him he could use when he inevitably fell asleep in his chair and his favourite by far, was the last.

"Oh I know that weight when I feel it," Ratchet lifted the present up and down a few times to demonstrate, "let me guess what colour it is this… time."

Ratchet unwrapped his most used spanner, the one Drift had mischievously coloured pink before. All of the traces of the luminous paint were gone and in its place, Drift had painted beautiful rainbow swirls all along it. With a small smile, Ratchet took it in his hand.

"It shouldn't chip when you use it, I made sure it had plenty of top coat."

"Drift… what you've done for me today I couldn't ever-"

"Don't say it." Drift hunched his shoulders up, "you saved my life. I can never do enough for you, Ratty."

They exchanged a long look, both watching the other with sparks bursting with love. Drift leant in and kissed Ratchet softly, pulling back briefly to whisper huskily.

"And that's not all of your presents…"

Drift kissed him again, Ratchet chuckling into it and sneaking a hand onto his chest.

"Get in the berth whilst I lock the door and move your stuff."

Ratchet didn't need telling twice. He scrambled under the blankets on the berth whilst Drift moved the presents onto the desk, checked the door and dimmed the lights. He couldn't wait to do what he had planned and he brought out another present from under the berth for Ratchet to unwrap whilst they were cuddled up together. A broad smile lit up his face. 

He slid under the blankets and reached out.

"Ratty, I-"

Drift stopped. Then he giggled lightly. Ratchet was snoring softly, apparently the excitement of the day having worn off. With a good natured sigh, he hid the other present back under the berth and kissed Ratchet's helm lightly. He snuggled up closely and offlined his optics, glad that apparently everything had been well received.

Drift whispered, "Happy Forge Day dear Ratty, happy Forge Day to you."


End file.
